


Building

by FoxyEgg



Series: Shitty Outlast Stories [4]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Writing, Gen, Headcanon, Hhhhhhhhhhh-, Hope, Hopefully Slow Burn, I fucking mean it, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Sorry, In conclusion I'm bad at everything, Like when I mean no plot, Muteness, Oc's are not in relationships with the characters DO NOT FRET!, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Reaction to Trauma, Sad Miles Upshur, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Shitty plot, Silent Miles Upshur, Starvation, Suffering, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Walrider Miles Upshur, Weird Plot Shit, oof, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyEgg/pseuds/FoxyEgg
Summary: It smelled like shit here. Chemicals, paper, ink, bleach... All of it a concoction of wealth and assholes.ORMiles gets taken to a facility.





	1. Chapter 1

Miles can smell. People. They smell bad; like medicine and bleach. His stomach clenched as his eyes inched open.

  
  


His eyes.

  
  


They were screwed shut by eye boogers and dried tears. The cut on his cheek had a white bandage taped onto it. His split lip felt oily, something smelling like chemicals was on it.

 

‘ _ Disinfectant? _ ’ he questioned, still trying to pry his eyes open.

 

He picked up his hands, rubbing them softly across his eyes. The stumps where his fingers used to be were patched up too, if he pulled them right, he could feel stitching. He couldn’t open his mouth too much, only able to part his lips. His face felt numb and cold. 

 

His lips.

_ What happened to his lips? _

 

“Mr. Upshur? Are you awake?” Someone was here with him.

 

He jumped back, ramming his back into the headboard. He had a catheter in his penis that pinched when he moved,  _ how long had he been out _ ?

 

They continued, “sorry, Miles. Is Miles okay?”

 

Miles was his name, right? Yeah. He’s always been referred to as Miles. Miles Upshur. 

 

“Do you need water?” 

 

Miles wondered what he looked like: scrambling, eyes shut and crusty, unable to open his mouth, weighted limbs. They handed him water of which he greedly grabbed,- given, it was very sloply grabbed because of him not opening his eyes- and drunk until it was empty. Shit, he still needs to open his eyes. Miles pointed his finger into the cup.

 

“More?”

 

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nodding.

 

They got up and came back with the cup filled to the brim. They set in down on a table beside of him and went back to their chair. Miles waited until they sat down, he dipped his fingers into the water. Then, he softly rubbed the water onto his eyes, loosening the dried goop. He opened his eyes, feeling like a baby bird. Everything was bright and blotchy, the lights lit up the white walls. They were sitting by him, turns out they were a man who had brown hair tied into a messy bun, blue eyes, and a scrubbs. Miles stared at him, he was very unprofessional, sitting on his phone playing a game. Miles kinda wanted to watch, so he slid of the bed, carelessly stumbling over to him, leaning heavily on the wall once he made it. He didn’t seem to notice Miles’s absence until his game ended and he took a glance up at the bed Miles was in. He swore quietly and frantically looked around, finding Miles behind him.

 

“Jeez, you scared me,” he chuckled, slapping a hand onto his chest.

 

Miles tilted his head, scared? Being scared isn’t good. You can’t be scared here. People-  _ variants _ \- are always on the prowl.

 

“Uh- I’ll be back at around 8 tomorrow to getcha fed. Have a good night.” He shot up and shuffled out of the room, Miles sloppily followed and listened to the guard and him speak.

 

“No privileges is what I was told,” the guard spoke.

 

“Correct, besides for the bathrooms with supervision,” the doctor (or nurse?) confirmed.

 

He

 

Needed

 

To

 

Get

 

Out


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are gonna have a hoot reading this, it's 703 words long. I did think about making it 1,000, but decided against it, I've been keeping you guys waiting for a new part.

It was night and he could feel the breeze on his face, drying out his nostrils and his throat. He had taken out the catheter and the various needles and was walking around, listening. After a while of sitting, laying down, and opening and shutting the window, he thought it was time. Quickly, he cracked open the door, peeking left and right his eyes landing on the guard that was supposed to be watching.

 

‘ _ He probably forgot. I’m pretty forgettable? _ ’ Miles sighed and limped away, his ribs just decided to act up now? He judged wrong. Footsteps were quickly gaining on him.

 

“Hey!” Someone was coming. He was so dumb. Miles peeked around his shoulder, his eyes finding a doctor shaking the guard until he was awake. 

 

“What could you possibly-” The guard was cut off by Miles running, his hand tracing the wall. “Get back ‘ere!”

 

Miles swallowed the bile and trudged through the halls, stumbling a good few times in the process. He ended up losing them and hid under one of the tables in the cafeteria. What are they gonna do to him?

 

‘ _ Will they gut me? Fuck my corpse? Eat me? _ ’ His shuttered breaths warmed up his face and tickled his nose. 

 

Crackle. “Raidio in if you find him. Yeah, yeah, I get it. Sure. He doesn’t know his way around. Mhm, yeah.” Someone was on the radio. 

 

‘ _ Guard? _ ’ Miles’s stomach erupted into a swarm of butterflies, his fingers and toes were cold; well, his feet were, the floor  _ is  _ awfully cold.

 

“We won’t hurt you! We’re here to help,” the guard said loudly, his voice echoing off of the walls. 

 

Miles was silent, occasionally adjusting his body hoping to ease the pain of his ribs. He shifted too much and josled his ribs. He tried to cover his yelp, but failed, leading the guard right to him. Miles hissed and jumped up, slipping through the plastic chairs (the tables were odd, they were circular and had little plastic, circle seats attached by metal to the table) to run. The guard knew he would do this, so he ran around the table, grabbing Miles by his midsection. Miles got the wind knocked out of him, his top half jolted forward, hurting his brain and his ribs in the process. 

 

“Got him,” the guard spoke into his shoulder. 

 

‘ _ Raidio on his shoulder. _ ’ Could be useful information in the future.

 

Miles covered his eyes when the bright lights switched on. Doctors, nurses, and guards filed into the room and surrounded him. Feeling like a cornered animal, Miles started to struggle.

 

“Hmph,” the guard holding him grunted as Miles hit his chest, trying desperately to escape. 

 

Miles pushed on the guard’s arm and wiggled his legs, trying to slip out of the guard’s iron grip. A doctor walked in front of him, the one from before.

 

“Thank God we found you, you could have gotten more hurt. Why did you run?” Why did he? This obviously wasn’t Mount Massive as he first thought. Maybe these doctors work for Murkoff? How would they know about the Walrider if Miles hadn't even taken him out ever since he got out of the Asylum?

 

Miles opened his mouth to speak but shut it again, like a gulping fish. His struggling had picked up as soon as everyone started to move, including the two guards that were now holding him. He swallowed thickly, his eyes burned from exhaustion. His eyes felt like they dropped. Miles’s legs gave out and sweat poured down his face, he felt annoyed and snappy. The guards were surprised by the sudden weight and grunted, nearly falling down with Miles. Miles felt slippery and cold but he felt sticky and hot. He could feel his eyes sag in their sockets. 

 

“We need you to stand up,” one said, muffled.

 

Miles lazaly nodded and went to stand, but his legs gave out again. The guards lost their grip and dropped him, Miles’s head smacked the ground and his hands made a clap on the tiles. He just closed his eyes, the burning in the souls of his feet finally sesing. His sides were grabbed and he was sat up, his head lulling back like with Trager. Doctors were talking. Why? Why were they talking? Miles could faintly hear them mention “flickering” and “fog”. 

 

What did the Walrider do now?


	3. Chapter 3

Miles didn’t sleep. From his little ‘adventure’, more guards were instructed to stand by his door, four in all to make sure he didn’t run. 

 

‘ _ Over the top much? _ ’ 

 

Miles’s eyes were burning but he couldn’t sleep. He was laying on his side, his top leg (his left) was over the thin, itchy blanket of which was clenched in between his thighs.  He had found out that no, the Walrider didn’t do anything, the doctors a level below him were talking about an upcoming storm. Miles stayed awake, thinking. What did Murkoff have on him? No one could tell who that was at the end of the Whistleblower's video, though maybe only friends because of his jacket, but he doesn’t think even them could chase him down. Truth be told, it started to rain. The thunder shook the building. Miles hadn't even been awake for a day and he was already terrified, pathetic. Miles decided that he needed to take a good ol’ shit because of course he did. He limped to the door, using the wall to brace himself. The guards whipped their heads around once they realized he was at the door.

 

‘ _ Bathroom, _ ’ he wanted to say but it was caught in his throat. He had no way of telling them where he wanted to go. 

 

Except.... He walked over to the bedside table and took out a loose smidge of paper, showing it to the guards and silently hoping they would understand that he needed a pen or something. 

  
  


Uh yeah they didn’t. It took about ten years and lots of crazy hand gestures on Miles’s part for them to finally realize what he wanted. He was annoyed and his bladder was gonna burst in like, two seconds. Didn’t help that the Walrider was hissing and screeching in his ear for him to pee. 

  
After him hobbling to the bathroom and taking the longest pee he has  **ever** , he waddled back to his room and laid down, thinking about what he had in store for tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the cast if you were wondering:
> 
> Sam Hall: male, doctor, brown hair tied into a messy bun, blue eyes, and scrubbs
> 
> Miles Upshur: Miles Upshore without a paddle :’)
> 
> Waylon Park: Constantly crying
> 
> Blake Langermann: “Lynn... LYNN!”
> 
> Lisa Park: I’m-gonna-punch-you-if-you-touch-my-baby
> 
> Lynn Langermann: Not dead hoe
> 
> Murkoff: Oof-
> 
> Rick Trager: Man who hurt Miles
> 
> Eddie Gluskin: dArLiNg-

Food was apparently important now. 

 

Miles had a terrible diet; hardly eating and when he did it was take out. These people were stuffing him fucking _full_ , he could hardly eat lunch and definitely not dinner. Breakfast had been a pound of hashbrowns, a muffin (blueberry because Miles isn’t a demon), and pancakes. Obviously, Walrider was basking in all of the nutrients, fun fact: _Miles is a shit host_. To be fair, Miles is very new to this new found appetite, he often says to the fuming Walrider. In conclusion, his stomach was a black hole. 

 

“Come on, you need to have some,” that doctor, from the name tag was named Samuel Hall, said, still trying to feed Miles.

 

Miles groaned and rolled his eyes, rolling to look away from the annoying doctor. 

 

Sam sighed, “I need you to eat.” Then he thought for a minute. “Maybe if you cooperate, I can do something for you?” Miles definitely perked up at that. 

 

‘ _ Reward? _ ’ Miles tended to think what he wanted to say instead of actually saying it as if his brain couldn’t send signals to his voice box any longer and just gave up. 

 

Then again he didn’t talk at all through the entire experience of hell on earth, he also screamed and hyperventilated a lot, making his nose and through rough. Miles tilted his head to convey his message and the doctor chuckled.

 

“Yeah. Maybe I could let you walk around? Explain somethings?” MIles nodded vigorously at both. 

 

‘ _ Both would be so nice _ .’ Miles then paused, ‘ _... Why is he being so nice to me? _ ’ Miles backed away slowly, jaw clenched tightly. ‘ _ Why? Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why- _ ’

 

“Miles,” Sam said, snapping Miles out of his dazed state.

  
Miles shook his head hard, making him dizzy, but that was quickly corrected by Walrider. He stumbled onto his feet and backed up against the wall. Everything felt dark and smelt like blood. Is it dark? Where’s the blood? He  _ swears  _ he could hear pained screaming, the tearing of flesh, grunting and hissing. Where are they? Where are they coming from? Miles’s hands made fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is so lazy and nothing really happened, guess what? I'm a lazy piece of shit!


	5. Chapter 5

Miles woke up to the sun peering out of the horizon. He was sitting, his back pressed to brick and his bandaged hands were touching rough shingles. 

 

' _ Roof? _ ' Was he on a roof? 

 

"He was just here!" 

 

"How didn't you hear him get out?!" People were talking nearby. 

 

' _In the room?_ _Are they worried 'bout me?_ ' 

 

How  _ did  _ he get up here though?

 

"He smashed the fucking window; how did you not notice  _ that _ ?!" Oh. He smashed the window. What in the world is happening.

 

Miles decided that enough was enough, he (for some reason) didn't want the poor doctors to have a worse panic attack, so he made his way, slowly, to the window he vaguely remembers. Walking to it on a ledge like he was at Mount Massive, he peeked inside and was met face to face with Sam.

 

"Miles, don't run away," he scolded as Miles slinked inside, crawling onto his bed and flopping down, sitting with his legs butterfly style. 

 

"Miles." Sam sighed, running a hand up and down his nose, stressed. "How did you even get out?"

 

"Hmhm," Miles shrugged, holding his feet together with his hands. 

 

His bed was itchy, would they change the sheets? No. No he won't stay here. A way out. Father Martin said there was a way out. Death, the Walrider was freedom? But the Walrider as him, as he was the Walrider. Was he death? Was Miles Upshur death? 

 

"What does "hmhm" mean?" He made the same sound Miles did, shrugging like Miles did too.

 

"I dont- I don-t… Remember," he shoved out his throat. He could almost taste blood crawling up, like his words cut his throat coming out. Was he so worthless that he couldn't even form a sentence?

 

"Miles," Sam's words were soft, like a sponge. "Let's-" he sighed. "Let's try a different question. What were you planning once you  _ did  _ get out?"

 

Run. Run so far that Murkoff couldn't hurt him. Go public? No. He couldn't do that. But Whistleblower did. It was Whistleblower's fault that Miles turned into this monster. No, not their fault, they didn't- what if Miles didn't come? He would at least have all ten digits, maybe would have his humanity left. 

 

"You might have to go to therapy if you don't talk to me, Miles." Sam then mumbled, "or I might lose my job."

 

"Lose… Your job?" Miles cocked his head.

 

"Yeah, I'm pretty new, only got this job a few months ago, this place is top notch, has a pretty long sota 'waiting list'." Sam then smirked. "And I also know that you most likely don't wanna have group talks or something."

 

Miles lightly smiled, puffing air out of his nose. "Am I that easy... easy to read?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Well- well shit." Sand paper. Think about if sand paper was getting scrapped up and down your throat, that's what talking felt like currently. 

 

"Does your throat hurt? You sound kinda..." Sam made a "seeeeeez" noise and tensed his shoulders, bringing his arms up and splaying his fingers.

 

"You're hallarious," Miles deadpanned, but then nodded, rubbing his neck if that would help.

 

"As your doctor, I need to know everything."

 

"Hey," Miles furrowed his brows. "How- how I… Here?"

 

"How'd you get 'ere?"  Miles nodded at Sam and motioned for him to continue. "I mean, I wasn't there but I did get a briefing before I was assigned to you." Miles tilted his head and Sam opened his mouth, about to answer his question, but Miles flailed his hands while shaking his head. "Uhm, my bosses told me that after the video came out, some of our men were sent out to try and find survivors, you were one of them. I'm pretty sure they found you deep in the woods caught in a thorn bush." 

 

"Oh." What the fuck? When did that happen? And how did he end up in a thorn bush? Was it Walrider? Maybe it’ll come back to him? It’ll as in his memories. Who knows.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got really close to 1,000 words (close for me, it's like, 800 words or somethin'). So yeah.

More. Fucking.  **FOOD** . It got to the point of pain but the Walrider wouldn’t stop screaming at him. The incoherent screeches increased tenfold when Miles laid back on his pillow, groaning. 

 

“You need to keep on eating,” Sam was so tired of Miles’s stubborn ass. 

 

Miles screeched in reply and shot up, swiping his hands across the little bed table, throwing the plate onto the floor and missing the milk. He went back for it, knocking it onto himself and crawling off of the bed, not caring about the fact that he was in a  _ gown _ . Ass on display, he stumbled to his feet, running full force at the window. ‘ _ Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, gogogogogogogogogogogogogogogogogogo, outoutoutoutoutoutoutoutoutoutoutoutoutoutoutout- _ ’ 

 

“Miles,” Sam chuckled, his eyes going wide, “HOLY SHIT MILES GET OVER HERE!”

 

Miles smack the window a lot, throwing punches and kicking it, he found glass embedded into his hand, wetness coating the said glass. He hulked his leg up and placed his foot mistakenly on the window cill, the pain dispersed because of his adrenaline and the Walrider. He put his other foot up and had all of his weight pressing down, the shards of leftover glass cutting far into his skin, far into his muscle. He was about to jump. 

 

‘ _ Death equals freedom. I’m so tired… Just lemme’... _ ’ He was pulled back by multiple sets of arms.

 

Miles struggled, he really did. Just let him die. Let him get the fuck out. He cried, screaming and shouting.

 

“Jesus Christ, Miles! Stop!” Sam. He was- Sam- how- Miles gritted his teeth, thrashing and yelling. 

 

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, nonononononononononononononono,” he stuttered through clenched teeth. The guards’ grips loosened as the door opened.

 

“Nile-” Sam was cut off.

 

“This isn’t the job for you, Sam.” Miles’s stomach dropped into his asshole. ‘ _ No. _ ’

 

Miles clawed at the guards’ arms as Sam was walked out, Nile’s hand on his back. Miles’s breath was ragged as the guards tried to pull him up,  _ of course Miles wouldn’t do what they wanted now _ . Miles reached above his head and gripped the bed frame; two things that were so nice about the Walrider: super strength and very quick thinking. Miles felt like his survival instinct rose up and way above his humanity at some points. The guards were pulling, one was trying to pry Miles’s hands off of the bed frame. Doctors waddled in, whispering to the guards. Nice things about the Walrider part two: spectacular hearing.

 

“Upstairs, room C1,” a female doctor told a guard who then informed the other guard, their pulling and reefing increased.

 

‘ _ Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. They’re trying to move him? Without Sam too? _ ’ Miles’s day was really going to shit, isn’t it? Miles’s hands were getting hot, burning from friction. ‘ _ Shit. Shit, shit, shit! _ ’

 

Miles had to let go or else his palms were gonna fucking peel off. He was being moved to a new room upstairs. It was like, 1:40 or somethin’, so lots of doctors and other patients’ attention was stolen by Miles’s screeching all the way to the elevator and all the way to his new room. Most mumbled something along the lines of, “what the fuck?” or something. Miles was put in the room of which he immediately tried to run out of, trying to follow the guards but being softly pushed back in. He screamed his head off, fat tears making their way down his face. No way was he sleeping in the bed, wasn’t his. 

 

Sam wasn’t here either to calm him down. Now in no way did Miles fully trust Sam, he had only just met him, but he liked how Sam would pet him until he fell asleep or kept him on track when he drifted into his mind. Sam was good at what he did, he didn’t have enough physical strength to hold Miles back at times like this, but he could talk him out of it, offer comfort after instead of nothing. Miles could never sense any fear or stress radiating off of the guy directed at Miles, only at the thought of losing his family or his job or his girlfriend. Miles only had his mom, father was in prison for shit (*explanation in end of chapter notes*) and he had never really had too many boyfriends, only two or three through his 29 years of existence. In college he used to sleep around, never really was the type to settle down, but now he wanted that so bad, he wanted someone close to him, that he could trust, to comfort him. But that’ll never happen between his mental state, his looks, his personality, and Walrider. No way could he be in a relationship and keep a big ass secret like that. 

 

So he’s alone. And it’ll stay that way. 

 

He crumpled down, sliding under the bed, not closing his eyes, and not sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .:TRIGGERING SUBJECTS BELOW, READ WITH CAUTION:.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> * The reason Miles only has his mother is that his dad, David, is in jail because he was an abusive alcoholic who touched Miles. Touched as in rape. Read in this chapter of my story "Punished" to get a little bit more details: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309833/chapters/44621509


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a tad bit on the sort side, sorry 'bout that!

When did Miles fall asleep? No fucking clue. Though he did, so he opened his eyes because the door opened. 

 

“Mr. Upshur?” Doctors? Very professional guards? Miles didn’t know who it was, but it was somebody. “Mr. Upshur, are you here? We need you to stand against the wall.”

 

Who the fuck do they think they are? _Instructing_ _him_? Psh…

 

“Yeah, I don’t know where he is... Mhm… Sure.” Talking on a walkie talkie maybe? Or a phone? 

 

Miles’s hands stung so he shook, peering down at his hands he gritted his teeth, blood was seeping through the bandages, staining the carpet he was pressed tightly against.

 

“Miles…?” Someone. It was someone, someone was here. Someone was here again.

 

“Hphm?” Miles bit his lip, hoping to muffle his words into a silent mutter. They knew where Miles was at the start, maybe not  _ exactly _ , but they had a good idea.

 

“Miles,” he crouched down to Miles’s level. 

 

Miles didn’t notice he was sweating, didn’t notice he was panicking. The person reached under though Miles quickly backed up, more and more and more each time the person tried to reach him. He got too far and a guard grabbed him from behind, moving him against a wall. He tried to run to the bed, then to the open door but he was pulled back each time. They opened his hands and wrapped them with bandages.

 

“What are you doing? Sit him down,” That doctor that pulled him out said. 

 

He was sat down and had the weight taken off of his feet, though he still struggled and kicked, hissing was involved too. They poked around, touching his cuts and bruises willy nilly. 

 

‘ _ Sam. I want Sam. _ ’ 

 

Miles slid down the chair until his torso, hips, and his legs were level and he had a triple chin. They poked his lip and peeled off the taped bandage on his cheek, slapping another one on. Then they left. They just, ‘poof’. Left. Miles got up and wobbly walked to the window, it was hard and thick, no chance he could break it. He sighed and rested his head in his hand, watching others below him frolic in the grass.

  
‘ _ God damnit. _ ’ He slid down the wall below the window, hugging his legs close to his chest and resting his head on his knees. ‘ _ God. Fucking. Damnit. _ ’


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got outta the hospital (I went for suicidal help) and finished this, hope it's okay, I haven't been writing for five days or so.

Someone was screaming when Miles woke up. Walrider was hissing and floating around the room as if he was pacing.

 

“Lynn! LYNN!” 

 

‘ _ Who the hell is screaming at…’ _ Miles looked over at his alarm clock, ‘ _ 12 PM? _ ’ 

 

There was shushing and light cussing muffled by the thick door. The person was. Still. SCREAMING. All Miles wanted to do was fucking  **sleep** . His left hip and shoulder hurt from sleeping under his bed again. His reason: it’s fun? He finally decided to crawl out and pop his ear over to the door. Struggling. Lots of struggling. 

 

‘ _It’s been…_ ’ Miles checked his alarm clock again. ‘ _30 minutes and they're still trying to get this guy put away?_ _What is up with-_ ’

 

Then his door opened and he fell face first onto the cold tile in the hallway. This is his chance to get out, they’re all distracted. He shot up like a bullet and sprinted down the hallway, hoping to God his butt wasn’t showing.

 

“Hey!” Miles spun around, giving himself a slight headache in the process. “Get back here!”

 

Miles panted hard to the point of hyperventilating. Holy shit do morning runs really help you with stamina. Miles just about turned a corner to smash into a chest.

 

‘ _ Female? _ ’ 

 

He crashed to the floor and hit his head on the wall, he yelped and clutched his melon. He groaned in pain and arched his back, crinkling his face.

 

“Ugh,” he drew out, small tears collecting in the corner of his eyes.

 

He opened his eyes and saw a female- as he suspected- kneeling in front of him. She had brown hair tied into a ponytail and matching brown eyes. She was wearing a V-neck t-shirt and dark skinny jeans. She gasped and waved her hands, taking a quick step back.

 

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed, her words muffled by a hand. 

 

Miles screamed as his arms were pulled up. Guards yanked him up and ignored his yelling until he started to kick widely in the air.

 

“Jesus- Mrs. Lingermann! Step back,” A guard hissed, Miles still kicking non-stop.

 

Mrs. Lingermann did as told. 

 

‘ _ Was that man screaming for her? Is her name Lynn? Would that make him Mr. Lingermann? I mean… I don’t think visitors are allowed here. Is she dropping him off? _ ’ Miles thought back to the man. ‘ _ I never saw him, so he might just be a sibling? _ ’ 

 

“Stop, stop, stop, no, no, no, no, no,” Miles’s pleas turned into a jumbled string of sounds, indecipherable by everyone.

 

Miles shook his head rapidly and screamed again, causing Mrs. Lingermann to jump and swallow a lump. 

 

“LYNN!” 

 

Miles flipped his head around and froze, his fingers going cold.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DIDNT LIKE HOW THE ORIGINAL CHAPTER WAS GOING SO I REWROTE IT.

It was freezing cold in his room. The man. Mr. Langermann. When Miles turned, he found Mr. Langermann running right at him. Lynn, the female, he has no clue who she is. Partner? Lover? Friend? He passed out. They… Fought? Miles flexed his arms and legs, feeling the sting of bruises and cuts that made his twitch. 

 

' _ Shit… _ ' Miles didn't remember very well what happened, maybe Mr. Langermann thought that he was a threat? ' _ What's up with me losing my memories as of recent? _ '

 

The door opened as Miles whipped his head to it. 

 

"Miles?" Sam.

 

Sam walked in and frowned at Miles's state; swollen eye, cut forehead, and a bruise wrapped around his neck. 

 

Miles jumped up and screeched, "Sam! Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam-"

 

"You only have a limited time, Samuel," Nile cut in, making Miles stop and turn to him slowly.

 

"Miles!" Sam tried to catch Miles as he flung himself at Nile.

 

"Fuck you! You took him," Miles screamed, knocking him over and tearing at his suit with his nails.

 

Miles let out gargled sounds and growling. He was being immature,  _ impulsive _ . He felt the Swarm seep out of his hands once they had them around Nile's throat. 

 

"Miles!" Sam was here, in danger but Miles shoved that to the back of his mind.  _ He took the only nice person away from Miles _ . "Miles just…"

 

Miles didn't want to stop, Walrider was agitated, Miles was agitated, the Swarm was agitated, everyone was pissed. Walrider hissed and leapt onto Miles's back, pulling him back on holding him onto the floor. Miles put his hands on the floor and pushed up, trying to push Walrider off of him.

 

"I'll calm him, go Nile!" Nile ran out and slammed the door. "Miles-"

 

"Get him back here! GET HIM BACK HERE!" 

 

"Miles! Is it okay to touch you? I don't wanna touch you until you say okay."

 

"Whatever! I don't care just get him back here!"

 

"Miles," he took Miles's cold hand in his warm ones. "Who's with you right now?"

 

"What?"

 

"Who's with you right now," Sam repeated.

 

"You, Walrider, the Swarm."

 

"Swarm? Walrider?"

 

"They're… They're- it just- I mean-" Miles's heartbeat was thumping in his chest. He was finding it difficult to speak again.

 

"That," Sam asked shakily, pointing to the visible Wlarider.

 

"He's okay! He's part of me just like the Swarm! I got him from Mount Massive! PROJECT WALRIDER! Please believe me! Please don't yell at me."

 

"It's…" Sam ran a hand down his nose like he always did while stressed. "I believe you. Everyone has seen the video."

 

Miles piped his head up.

 

"Oh shit. The Whistleblower, they could be in danger!"

 

"Whistleblower? Miles, your speaking in Miles tongue again," Sam tried to make light of the dark realization.

 

"Whistleblower sent me an email, blew the lid on Murkoff, told me about the dream experiments with Walrider and the hell that was Mount Massive. I highly doubt they'd think that I'd come," then he whispered, "they probably think I'm dead."

 

"Why would he be in danger?" Sam was still trying to catch up.

 

"Murkoff is an evil corporation. They'll track Whistleblower down and their family if they have a any." Sam's eyes widened.

 

"Do you think they could track  _ you _ ?" 

 

Miles paused and waved his hand. "No, I don't think they knew I was there, it would be extremely hard to find my face through the Swarm."

 

"That person... Was you? At the end," Sam asked, placing a hand on his chin.

 

"Yeah." Miles paused everything again, his fingers going cold. "My press pass."

 

"What?"

 

"My press pass was in my car, hanging on the rearview mirror, it definitely landed in shot. Same with my license plate, they could find me through there."

 

"What do we do?"

 

Miles's ears rang as he said, "find that damn whistleblower."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: captured
> 
> As always correct me if anything is wrong! (e.g. spelling, word choice, grammar, content ect.)


End file.
